This is how I picture it in my head. A loving Heavenly Father looking down at his earthly daughter and wondering why it’s taken her so long to learn patience. And contentment. And faith. Especially faith. He thought for sure that by now she would have learned what is truly important in this life.
He’d hoped that the joy she had experienced in this life would have been enough for her to trust in His wisdom and timing.
Yet, she struggled.
There were things this earthly daughter needed to understand and practice in her life in order for her to return to her Father in Heaven and achieve her highest potential.
This hard headed, stubborn and prideful daughter needed one of His master teachers that would tear her safe little world apart and then slowly rebuild it in such a way that her foundation was stronger even though her pockets were poorer. Her body exhausted while her spirit danced with sheer joy. Through this teacher she would recognize that perfection isn’t about how the world defines it, but how God defines it.
Slowly, ever so slowly because of the great sacrifices of this master teacher sent to her by her Heavenly Father she would begin to understand faith. She would recognize the whisperings of the Spirit instead of losing such scared illumination in the noise of what she formerly believed to be important.
Slowly, sometimes with one step forward and two steps back, she would begin to allow her master teacher to introduce her to the power of faith. She would learn that she could fill the void of fear with the peace that can be sent only by God if she took the time to ask in prayer.
There would be many days when she knew she was letting her teacher down while he, through his daily examples, still kept his part of the deal. With a heart broken and humbled she would kneel to her Father in Heaven, ask for forgiveness and commit to begin again. She knows the gift she’s been given and she doesn’t want to blow it.
There is much to be learned. While I am often an intrepid student, these lessons come dear and the fear of a bitter cup can hold me prisoner.
While I still find myself demanding this story end in such a way as to cause my heart the least pain, my teacher holds steady and strong.
I could never cobble together the units of language needed to describe the gratitude I feel for this most providential of teachers. So, I’ll keep it simple.